Coming Home
by LianneZ4
Summary: Neal always slips away in the morning. June wants him to know that he can stay. AU, teen!Neal.


**COMING HOME**

**Summary: Neal always slips away in the morning. June wants him to know that he can stay. AU, teen!Neal.**

_**A/N: **__Written for Round 3 of run-the-con. Unbetaed, so please excuse any mistakes. As always, reviews are very much appreciated._

_EDIT: Thanks quest for pointing out the misspell!_

* * *

Sitting on the couch in her living room, June Ellington smiled when she more felt than heard the movement behind her.

"Hey love." From above, Byron loosely placed his arms around June's shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her face. Then his look fell on the item in June's hands. "You're still working on this?"

"And I'm making steady progress."

Byron chuckled. "You do know that there are less painful ways, don't you?"

"That's not the point," replied June firmly. "It's a gift, so I'm going to finish it. Besides, it's great practice, remember?"

With a smile, Byron placed another kiss to the side of her neck. "I'm sure he'll love it."

"Well as long as he wears them…"

"Do you know when he's coming again?" asked Byron.

"Maybe tomorrow, or maybe the day after…" June sighed. "You know Neal. I expressly invited him for Wednesday dinner. He promised he'd be there."

"Then he'll be there. I love you." Byron cleared his throat. "I'm going to walk Bugsy, do you want to come as well?"

June shook her head. "Not today, I'm –"

"Working on the gift. I understand."

June set aside the needles and stood up. She pulled Byron into a brief hug. "See you later then."

Byron smiled. "See you later."

o - o - o

The thing with Neal Caffrey was that if you pressured him, he simply took off and you didn't see him for weeks – if he came back at all.

June knew that the instinct to run had something to do with Neal's past. However, even though she had been friends with Neal for several months now, she still didn't know anything about the boy's former family except for a hint dropped here and there. That was fine. June could wait until Neal grew comfortable enough with her to tell her the truth, even if it should take years. She was a patient woman.

The first time she had met Neal Caffrey, he went by the name 'Nick', he was pretending to be an adult and he was running a game of 'Find the Lady' on the streets of New York. June could still recall that day perfectly in her mind…

o - o - o

It had been a sunny day, unexpectedly warm for the beginning of March. June was just returning home from an afternoon spent with her friend when she suddenly spotted a table with a game of Three Card Monte. Interested, she turned her attention to the boy running the game – Nick, as he had called himself to one of the bystanders – a young grifter who charmed the crowd so naturally that June couldn't help but watch, intrigued.

For a while, she had observed him as he masterfully worked with his two shills. She watched as he scammed people of the cash that they foolishly betted in naive, arrogant belief that they could outplay this kid, and she was impressed when she realized that even she, who had been married to a con man for nearly forty years, could barely sense it when he made the switch. The boy was a natural at the short con with an innocent face and the hands of a professional pickpocket. _He could be as good as Byron and her._

However, talent only went so far when confronted with age and experience.

June waited until the latest mark left in dismay before she made her move. With a gullible expression of mild curiosity, she approached the table with the cards. "Excuse me, how is this game played? Am I supposed to find the Queen?"

"That's right, Madam," replied the teenager with a charming smile. "In the beginning I show you the cards, then I turn them face down and move them around. You follow my hands and when I stop, you pick the one you think is the Lady. Do you want to give it a try?"

"I don't know…"

"What about first time, you just give it a trial run, no bets?"

June smiled. "Well, I supposed I could try it…"

Nick let her win the 'trial' run before she made a bet to try for real. This time, she actually saw him made the switch – she realized that knowingly or not, his hands were moving slower than with the other marks – and she didn't know whether to feel insulted or laugh at being underestimated.

"This one," said June firmly when the cards finally stayed still, and enjoyed the flash of surprise on Nick's face.

He recollected himself almost immediately. "Congratulations! And here is your money."

"Beginner's luck, I suppose," said June innocently. "What about another game?"

She was taken aback when Nick looked deep into her eyes. June waited patiently before he searched her face and suddenly slipped into a smaller but more honest smile.

"I don't think so," he said with a small bow of recognition. "Well played, my lady."

"Hey!" protested a man next to them. Surprised, both June and Nick turned to the bystander that they had overlooked. "What is this? Let the lady have another game!"

"I don't think that's –" started June.

"The cops are coming!" exclaimed one of the shills suddenly. "We have to get lost!"

In panic, the man who had been getting winded up hastily made his escape.

Nick smiled. "Good call, Andy –"

"Are you deaf?" exclaimed the boy's partner. "Nick, I'm serious!"

"Damn it!"

Finally noticing the pair of policemen in sight, Nick quickly pocketed the cards, stepped away from the makeshift table and tried to slip into the crowd.

Except they had already seen him. "Hey! You!"

Nick was ready to bolt when June's hand suddenly snapped around his wrist and holds him in place. He looked at her in panic and tried to pull away.

"Let me handle this," she murmured soothingly in half-voice before she released his hand.

When the cops reached them a moment later, June already had her story ready. "What's the problem, officers?"

They didn't stand a chance.

"Thank you," said Nick when the cops left. "But you didn't need to cover for me. I would have gotten away."

"I know you would have," replied June sincerely. "But I wanted to talk to you, and I'm not up to chasing someone through the streets anymore."

For a few seconds, Nick just stared at her warily. "Talk to me?" he said at last.

Now that she saw him closer up, June's instincts were being confirmed.

He didn't appear to be starving, which was a good sign. However, his clothes had obviously seen better days, and there was something sharp and cautious in his whole posture that told June that the boy had been through some rough days – and that it was a rather decent development.

"Let's sit down," said June and pointed out one of the park benches.

She was well aware that the teen was considering the option of running. In the end, he took the place next to her. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm June Ellington," she said directly. "Back in the old days, I used to run cons with my husband, Byron."

"And you think it's time you passed that skill on a younger generation?" asked Nick with a crooked smile.

"Not necessarily. … How old are you? Do you have a place to stay?"

He gave her a grin that was as charming as it was fake. "Yeah, I have my own place. And I'm eighteen. Do you want to see my ID?"

So the boy was a forger as well.

June sighed. "You're obviously a very talented young man, but it's clear that you haven't been in the business for long. If you want to run the short cons, you should at least do it in a way that won't get you hurt."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nick paused. "I think I'll go. Thanks again for your help."

"Wait." June opened her wallet and gave him back the money that she had won from him earlier. "I think you need this more than me."

He stared at her with eyes wide open. "I don't need your help."

"Of course not." On impulse, June pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and scribbled down her number and her address. "But I know that the streets can get rough sometimes. If you ever need something, call me or come to my house."

"But… why?"

June smiled. "Byron and I could use another for our card games. I'd also like someone to eat my cookies and talk about jazz music… "

Nick perked up. "You're a fan of the classics?"

After a long conversation about Louis Armstrong and the evolution of jazz, it became clear that Nick was getting restless.

"Well, I think it's time for me to go," said June. "Will you stop by sometime?"

"I'll think about it," Nick said at last.

Then he had stood up, and within seconds he had disappeared into the crowd at the nearby street.

o - o - o

In the following months, Neal – which was his real name, as he had told June and Byron a few weeks after meeting them – had become a random guest in the Ellingtons' home.

Sometimes he dropped by after a truly successful day, sometimes after a truly bad one. There were days when he stopped by just to chat about art and music, and days when he was mostly quiet, when he just sat there in silence and watched the fireplace while Byron and June talked about everything and nothing or played a game of chess. Sometimes he brought them a bottle of wine (bought with one of his fake IDs, no doubt), and sometimes he invited himself to their table, with a mixture of cheerful boldness and a carefully hidden hesitance. Sometimes when he was too tired, the Ellingtons let him sleep at their couch, and that day when Neal stopped by with several nasty bruises and scrapes, they had treated them and put him to their guestroom to spend the night. But no matter what they did, in the morning he was always gone, usually leaving a note at the table, and they might not see him for days, even weeks, until he came back with an apologetic smile and eyes that pleaded for understanding and acceptance.

Torn between reluctance and guilty delight, they taught him the more delicate sides of cons. They also talked with him about education and making plans for the future.

June and Byron had soon learned to give Neal as much as he could accept, and waited until he was willing to trust them more.

Byron had once commented that in a way, it was like a long con. It required patience and a lot of effort, but the payoff reflected all that and more. June had replied that it was worth it. Neal might not have been their biological child, but despite that, he had slowly become a part of their family.

June hoped that her gift might help him accept that.

o - o - o

The next time when Neal stopped by, it was Monday afternoon and June was just finishing the last few rows of his present.

"Hey June…" Neal paused. He stopped in the middle of the living room and stared at the item in June's hands. "Wow. That looks complicated. I didn't know that you knitted," he said with obvious surprise.

June smiled. "It's great for practicing your dexterity. See?" She moved the needles a few times, demonstrating how the move was similar to the "tweezer-fingers" that were typical for a pickpocket's lift.

Neal chuckled. "That's ingenious. I'd never have thought of that."

June put the needles away and stood up. "It's barely forty degrees out there. You must be freezing. Do you want tea, coffee? Hot chocolate?"

Neal hesitated. "I can't stay long…"

"I insist," said June firmly. She paused. "I made my caramel biscuits."

She was never above resorting to a little bribery.

Neal smiled. "Okay, then… hot chocolate?"

"Chocolate it is."

He waited for her until she returned from the kitchen. Later, June watched Neal as he sat on her couch, wrapped in a blanket and sipping his drink, and as they enjoyed the warmth of the room, listened to jazz music in the background and chatted about some of Byron and June's adventures in Barcelona, June finally completed her work.

"Well, here you go," she said and handed the finished gloves to Neal.

Holding the soft woolen gloves, Neal stared at her in incomprehension. "What…"

"I told you – it's a good way to keep your fingers agile." She paused. "They're thin but warm, so they shouldn't get in the line of your work."

Slowly, Neal turned the gloves around. They were knitted out of a soft black yarn, with only a streak of blue around the low edges. "They're beautiful," he murmured with obvious admiration as he let his skin touch the yarn. He looked back at June. "I can't accept this," he opposed.

"You can and you will," said June firmly. "It's a cold winter. I won't have you running around outside and getting your fingers frozen."

"But why?" asked Neal again.

June was about to give him one of their many convenient excuses, when she hesitated. Maybe it was finally time to take the next step.

"Because you're our friend," she said. "And because I want you to feel comfortable to stay. Whenever you need."

There was a long pause.

"I'll try," said Neal at last.

They spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at the couch, drinking hot chocolate and talking about Sinatra. And if this time Neal didn't pull away when June hugged him in front of the fireplace… well, nobody needed to know.

THE END


End file.
